How Anger Can Take the Fun Out of Life

As the father of two young children entering “teenager mode,” I’ve been trying a small ritual from time to time. We sit down, and I say, slowly, one word at a time, and ask them to repeat after me: “I. Refuse. To. Be. Angry.” Sometimes, it's: “I. Refuse. To. Be. Frustrated.”

This is partly for their benefit. It is also very much for mine.

The word “refuse” needs some explaining. I want my children to be able to tell me they are angry, including when they are angry with me. My hope is that saying the words together creates a pause, a chance to consider what we do with the feeling.

Because anger can take the fun out of an experience remarkably quickly. A game, a meal, or an afternoon together can become entirely about what went wrong (like forgetting to bring something from home, which happens way too often). And then our ability to enjoy the moment seems to disappear.

Why does that happen? And how much say do we have in it?

The Meaning We Give the Moment

Appraisal theory offers a useful starting point: Our emotions depend partly on how we interpret what happens. In foundational research, Craig Smith and Phoebe Ellsworth found that anger was associated with certainty and holding someone else responsible, while fear involved greater uncertainty and a sense of circumstances being beyond human control.

This is the exact example I use to teach about appraisal for my students. Imagine something hitting the back of your head. If you believe someone deliberately struck you and you can confront them, you might feel angry. If you cannot identify the threat or know how to protect yourself, you might feel afraid. These are possibilities, not fixed rules. The physical event alone does not determine the emotion.

The relevant question for a parent would be, “Am I interpreting my child’s resistance as deliberate disrespect? Could there be disappointment, fatigue, or difficulty handling a limit?” I can still hold the boundary while reconsidering my explanation.

In emotion research, we call this cognitive reappraisal. In a classic experiment involving a disgusting film, James Gross found that reinterpreting the material reduced participants’ reported disgust. Simply concealing their expressions did not. Looking calm and changing how we feel are different processes.

This does not mean we can choose every emotion on command but it does suggest that our first interpretation need not be our last.

Then there is what happens after the initial reaction. In two daily-diary studies, Philippe Verduyn and colleagues found that emotional episodes, including anger, lasted longer when the triggering event resurfaced physically or mentally. Duration also depended on the event’s importance and the emotion’s initial intensity.

Making Room for Fun Again

In my research with Michel Tuan Pham, we describe fun as an experience of “liberating engagement.” It combines hedonic engagement—being absorbed in something pleasurable—with a sense of freedom from psychological restrictions.

That framework helps me understand why frustration or anger can be such a formidable obstacle to fun. When an experience becomes dominated by how it should have gone, how someone should have behaved, or why I deserve an apology, there is little room left to feel free and playful.

Liberation need not mean an absence of challenge. In fact, a difficult game can be great fun. The question is whether I can remain engaged in playing it, or become consumed by my objection to losing or a decision by an opponent. (Catan, anyone?)

Anger can also be useful. Research by Maya Tamir and colleagues found that anger improved performance on a confrontational task. But the goal of an afternoon with my children is usually more complicated than winning a confrontation.

Perhaps there is another question I need to ask myself: How much of my frustration comes from expecting to control the experience?

If I expect my children, our plans, and even my own emotions to unfold exactly as I want, I give myself plenty of opportunities to feel frustrated. I can set boundaries and take responsibility while accepting that the afternoon may have a life of its own.

This brings me back to liberation. Perhaps some of the freedom that makes fun possible comes from loosening my insistence on how things should go. There may be more room for enjoyment when the moment has less to live up to.

“I refuse to be angry,” then, also becomes a reminder to let go.

After all, when I acknowledge that I’m not in full control, anger dissipates and happiness arises.

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